


Power, Freedom and Conflict

by Marie_JosephJustCallMeLaf51



Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe -Daemons, Daemons, First work - Freeform, Gwash is stressed, HE IS SO ADORABLE, I swear, Lafayette is a cinnamon roll, M/M, Washette - Freeform, how do you tag?!, literally nobody else - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-16 07:41:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10566717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marie_JosephJustCallMeLaf51/pseuds/Marie_JosephJustCallMeLaf51
Summary: When George Washington meets the newest over-ranked French officer, he does not expect a boy so young his daemon has not settled. Yet he is entranced by Lafayette's character and begins to truly care for him...so what does he do when Lafayette is wounded during the Battle of Brandywine Creek?This is my first posted fic, and I'm afraid it is rather obvious. Could any mistakes be pointed out in the comments please?(Please ignore the historical accuracy because i got the information from Wikipedia, but who comes for accuracy?)





	

George just looked at the french Marquis stood smiling in front of him, daemon a little brown mouse clinging to the top of a pocket. By his feet, George's wolf daemon Brigitte stared at them, unimpressed.  
"General Washington, it is a pleasure to meet you, your excellency." The frenchman stated, accent thick, stepping forward to kiss him on both cheeks.  
Slightly bemused, if not shocked, George smiled and nodded his head.  
"You as well, Marquis."  
The man laughed even as his daemon shifted into a nondescript dog with curly brown fur and wagged it's tail at the wolf, who's eyes had widened with George's surprise. How young was this boy? His daemon had not yet settled!  
Yet he continued on as if nothing was amiss.  
"Please, call me Lafayette. This is Francois." He flashed another smile.  
"It means 'free'."  
George attempted to look unsurprised at the mention his daemon was in fact male, and gestured to Brigitte, who's dark brindle fur ruffled in the wind.  
"This is Brigitte." George paused for a brief moment.  
"It means 'power'." He added lowly. The Marquis, however, somehow looked even more enthused and his eyes shone with excitement as he spoke.  
"It is very fitting, mon general. You have a very beautiful soul." Brigitte blinked in surprise at the compliment even as Francois turned seamlessly into an iridescent hummingbird and hovered before the dark wolf. Even George was surprised when she turned to the Marquis with molten golden eyes and spoke in her rich tone.  
"Welcome to the Continental Army, Lafayette." It was out of practise for a daemon to speak directly to a person, but Lafayette looked positively thrilled and his daemon dropped from the air to become a small, exotic-looking cat and sat beneath the wolf's forelegs, as if the pair of them had known each other all their lives.  
Daemons could be very strange, sometimes.

After a few days, George began to genuinely enjoy the frenchman's company. He was an excitable person with an eccentricity about him that the general found refreshing after so long in a constant ditch of exhaustion and despondence.  
Lafayette's daemon was never still, always climbing across his shoulders as a mouse or fluttering around his head as a hummingbird or twisting constantly around his feet as a dog or cat. Francois would often find a perch in Brigette's brindle fur as a smaller animal or shelter beneath her bulk from the rain.  
However, Lafayette's naturally happy nature made him the subject of many glares and jabs from the troops. George heard them whenever he and Lafayette took a walk around the camp.  
"Look at that. Washington and his little French pet-"  
"Daemon's not even settled yet; they're gonna let a child lead us-"  
"Look at him: he's obviously never seen war before. Too fucking naïve-"  
George was certain Lafayette heard them too, but nothing seemed to dim the glow of youth and radiance that the frenchman carried.  
"General! I have urgent news!" A messenger wrenched him from his thoughts and he straightened, turning towards him.  
"Red coats have been spotted approaching Brandywine creek from Elkton in Maryland sir!" Immediately, thoughts of battle began to churn in his mind.  
"How many?"  
"15,500 men sir, and 47 artillery guns! Howe plans to retake Philadelphia."  
George narrowed his eyes.  
"We must defend the capital. Warn the troops of a battle."  
They could engage approximately 14,500 men, a thousand less than the British. But they had the advantage; they held the city.  
Brigitte was tense as he was as Lafayette, Tallmadge and Nathanael Greene rushed into his tent. Even the Marquis looked sombre, Francois curled against his neck as a mouse.  
"We need to defend Philadelphia. It is the capital of our operations and we need to keep morale high. You will each take command of a column of soldiers.  
"Tallmadge, how many soldiers can we engage?"  
The man hesitated a moment as he calculated the answer.  
"At most? 14,600 sir."  
George squared his shoulders and his daemon did the same, straightening to her impressive height.  
"Ready the troops for battle."

Brandywine was a disaster. His troops were panicking, no form of order or rank anymore as British forces mowed down man after man after man. Daemons dissolved into dust that was cast away from the scene by the wind. Screams and musket fire pierced George's ears and Brigette snarled beside his horse, infuriated.  
The panic would undeniably mean the end of his Army, and the end of the revolution; the general was beginning to despair.  
That was, until a single man on horseback galloped straight into the gunfire.  
It was Lafayette.  
George watched as the horse threw the Marquis, who immediately rose again despite the fact that that /had to hurt/ and attempted to calm the animal. It ran off, though, and by sheer luck the frenchman was spared by the rain of bullets that were unleashed. He ran towards the chaotic mass of soldiers, yelling orders and consolation, and George watched as they turned about-face and followed the young officer's orders, not a single man shot after Lafayette's intervention.

George and Brigette rushed towards the forest where his soldiers had retreated, eyes scanning the sparse crowd of shaken men and daemons until he spotted Lafayette, sat against a tree with a grimace. His hands were pressed down on his leg, blood seeping from between his fingers. Francois sat beside him in a new form.  
A brindle-black wolf. Just like Brigette.  
"Lafayette?" He and Brigette both exclaimed simultaneously as they rushed towards him. The Marquis smiled, pained.  
"It appear that the British...have welcomed me to your country with a bullet in the leg." George knelt next to him.  
"Surgeon!" The man appeared like a ghost at his side, squirrel daemon chittering on his shoulders. The general spoke to Lafayette.  
"This is my personal surgeon." He turned to the medic.  
"Treat him as if he were my own son."  
There was a brief pause as Lafayette ground his teeth against the pain, until the frenchman relaxed and spoke.  
"Francois...he has settled." George turned, surprised, to the daemon. He was a little smaller than Brigette, shorter fur and gangly with youth, paws and head far too largefor proportion, but certainly a wolf of Brigette's likeness.  
"It suits you." He replied genuinely as Brigette set to licking the dark fur between Francois's pointed ears.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> (Congratulations to those who got to the end without becoming exhausted with my terrible writing)!  
> If anybody has any tips on how to write better, or even to just improve this fic I'd be grateful to you! 
> 
> -Laf out


End file.
